Valkyria Chronicles: Red Alert REDUX!
by RedShocktrooper
Summary: When Squad 7 is almost defeated by the Botamys, green-colored units save them for reasons unknown. This story is one of questioning, mystery, and fantasy, scientific or no.
1. Welltimed Saviors

**Valkyria Chronicles: Red Alert Redux**

**By S. Solly/RedStormtrooper**

**A/N: In all honesty, I'll probably delete SnV:PKZ, but leave VC:RA up. This is due to the fact that this version, Redux, simply uses the idea of Valkyria Chronicles and Red Alert mixed together. By all means, they are two different fics.**

**Also, now that I've actually played (or rather, am playing) the game, I no longer have an excuse to just off Sevens off-screen.**

---Barious Desert---

Rounds pinged against the side of the Edelweiss, coming from the massive Botamys' many machine guns. While Welkin's own tank could stand up to the machine gun rounds easily, the fire from the lancers behind the massive tank were a different story all together. Smoke poured into the crew compartment, and he and Isara where coughing, both covered with soot and oil.

"We can't take much more of this!" Welkin shouted over the grumbling of the tank's Ragnite turbine, as he wiped off a pair of goggles he now wore, to keep the black substance out of his eyes.

Isara offered no response, attempting to drive the tank to shelter behind some ruins her brother had knocked down with the tank's 82mm cannon.

---Within the Botamys---

A smug look appeared on Prince Maximilian's face as he readied the massive main gun to destroy the Edelweiss. The 340mm cannon had the smaller machine in its sights, and he began to give the order that would send Welkin to early grave.

"Fi...!"

The massive tank shook fiercely, as Max looked through a periscope to see what had happened. He was greeted by a long, arcing smoke trail. His smug smile turned into a frown.

"Ignore it; don't let the Gallian escape."

"Yes, my Prince!" the main gunner shouted, re-sighting the Edelweiss.

--- ---

Welkin swore under his breath as the Edelweiss' treads gave out, leaving the tank stranded as the Botamys' main gun prepared to fire.

He turned to his younger sister. "Is, I just want you to know... You're the best little sister anyone could ever hope for."

She nodded; Welkin couldn't tell any more through the smoke. "And you're the best older brother, Welks."

They braced themselves for the inevitable, and a thunderous boom was heard. They both covered their ears and closed their eyes, fully ready for their fate.

... which, oddly enough, didn't come.

"Is... are we...?"

She quickly checked her pulse, head, then pinched herself, prompting a small shriek from her. "Uh...?"

Welkin checked himself in a similar manner, then opened the hatch on the cupola. All the sooty-oily substance that hadn't settled fumed out of the tank. Welkin coughed a bit as the black colored smoke poured out, and Isara did the same, as she opened the driver's hatch. He turned around to see the Botamys' turret almost completely gone, and a large hole torn in its body, then looked over to his right, to see what looked something like a twin-cannon Edelweiss, but wider and slightly taller and longer, and painted a light shade of greenish-olive with a red star.

A man emerged from the second tank, and waved to Welkin. Both he and Isara were amazed that something not much larger than their own tank could pack enough of a punch to tear such a large hole in the large tank Maximilian was in.

It was at this time that Welkin turned to see what was on the other side of him; in the distance, some strange sort of truck had a large rack on it; another, otherwise identical truck, had a really large Anti-tank Lance on its back. Both were painted the same olive green as the tank, as far as he could tell.

--- ---

"No! We failed His Grace..."

Selvaria and a detachment of her men, dressed in black, and one of them in red, had arrived moments after the second rocket had struck the Botamys. The blue flames around her grew brighter, as she prepared to reduce the Edelweiss and the unidentified tank next to it to burning ruins.

"...you will _pay!_"

She charged her Valkyrian lance, and aimed it at the burning Edelweiss. The green tank next to it noticed, and rotated its own turret, directing a pair of 110mm cannons toward Selvaria and her men.

At the same time, she fired her lance and the tank fired its twin cannons. Before the shells could hit her, she swung her lance, sending one of the shells screaming off towards the remains of the Gallian force in the east. The second round, which she didn't expect, smacked right into her, knocking her off her feet.

She ordered her lancers to take down the two tanks, but as she did so, the green tank moved in such a manner as to protect Welkin's battered tank.

"Hrmpf... the Gallian can't pose a threat anyway. Take down that green one."

The lancers moved, to fire on the green tank's radiator. But then they came to a realization: the familiar blue glow wasn't radiating from the rear of the tank; instead, a pair of pipes coughed out gray-colored smoke. This realization was moments to late; the rounds had already struck the tank's rear, and the twin cannons directed towards them. As they ran, though, they placed confidence in their suits, to protect them against the twin shells.

Something the KV-110's commander was used to, as the vehicle rolled towards the lancers at an oddly high rate, that did not match up with the vehicle's presumed weight. The lancers turned to fire on the KV-110 again, as did Selvaria, but the vehicle was just as heavy as it appeared. It smashed into the Lancers, and rather than just pushing them aside, pushed them over, the vehicle's weight causing their heavy armor to collapse in on itself.

Selvaria's remaining men began running, though Selvaria herself stood her ground, as the tank rolled toward her. She held her lance out, and charged it again; suddenly, the KV-110 halted, the commander popped out of his cupola, and gave a "behind you" motion with his finger, pointing towards a pair of V2 Rockets.

She saw a second motion, with his other hand; it wasn't a particularly polite one, either.

Again, she charged her lance, and slashed it at the V2 Rockets, setting off their volitile warheads in a blaze of flame. The KV-110-2 attempted to squish her, but she swung around quick and hard enough to rip the machine open when her lance struck it, catapulting steel fragments into the old Valkyrian building.

Selvaria could see a blond-haired man in stained clothing emerge from the burning Botamys. "Your Grace!" she shouted, running towards the tank, not noting the fact that more of the green Edelweisses had rolled up from the Botamys' original direction, along with what looked to be shocktroopers with the strange-looking ADK-45.

--- ---

Alicia awoke to the sight of men dressed in green, holding weapons she'd never seen before. In a way, they resembled the Mags used by the shocktroopers, but that was only tangential; the banana-shaped clip, the long barrel, and the wooden stock and fore-grip, all made Alicia rethink the resemblance to the Mags.

Looking around, she spotted a familiar blue uniform jacket; that of Welkin Gunther. She attempted to get up, but moaned in pain, causing her to return to the sand below. At least, it wasn't so hot now that the sun had set.

Looking more closely, she saw that none of the faces beneath the steel helmets worn by the green-colored soldiers were familiar.

"Welkin," she began, somewhat weakly, "who... who are these people?"

"I don't know... honestly, I don't know." Welkin's voice had a far off tone, as though he was observing the soldiers like some sort of rare bug. The expression on his face soon turned from curiosity to horror when the Valkyrur temple behind them exploded in a cloud of blue ragnite dust.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

Some of the men pointed their ADK-45's at Welkin. The rifle's bayonet only helped to make the already intimidating weapon even more so.

"That's a part of Europan history you've just destroyed. Even if I majored in biology, I know enough that..."

"...Silence! Your world will only know true peace under Communism; we must make it forget everything else. Even its own history."

The gruff voice drew the attention of Welkin, Alicia, and the riflemen.

"What do you mean, 'forget everything else?' What if the Dark-hairs try something funny like they did way back then?" the voice of Bridgette Stark called out towards the gruff voice's source.

"Because, Ms. Stark, your ideas of 'dark-hairs' and 'Valkyrur' will be lost to two things: the Sands of Time, and the Scythe of Communism. Nothing else shall exist; only total and complete equality."

"Who are you people, anyway?" Largo's voice sounded.

"We are Soviets; we attempted to liberate our world from the grasps of Capitalism, and give everything to the Workers, Laborers, and Farmers. If you're asking a bit more personally, I'm the head of this force, and the Marshal of the USSR, second only to Stalin himself."

The squad tossed a series of confused looks amongst themselves. After a few moments of silence, aside from the muttering of nearby Russians and Ukrainians, Isara stepped up to the man in the Olive Green officer's uniform.

"Marshal, does this, 'everything', include the... erm..."

"...'Darcsen Calamity?'"

"Ah... yes. How did you...?

"If there is one thing Europa shall not forget; it is that the Party sees everything."

The Squad shuddered slightly at this; though no-one paid too close attention to it, Alicia and Welkin blushed.

Isara spoke again. "Marshal... who are _you_?"

The Marshal chuckled slightly. "Me? That shall be important soon enough; but for now, we have interfered enough with the order of battle. We shall work to return you and your tank to your own lines."

The Russians lead the remaining members of Squad 7 to the Edelweiss, which the Soviets had kindly helped repair, though the treads now appeared slightly different. Hopefully, not a noticeable difference.

As the Sevens rumbled off towards their own lines, the Marshal was approached by one of his subordinates.

"Comrade Marchenko, why didn't we detain them? Or, better yet, kill them?"

"In due time, comrade Moskvin, in due time..." the gruff voice of the Marshal said dryly.

An angered look stretched upon Moskvin's face. "Comrade Marshal, we have the technology to take this entire landmass with our own forces; we don't need these Gallians' help!"

"We might not need it, comrade Marshal, but it will be useful anyway. The more men and equipment we have, the shorter the road to liberating this filthy, backwards, capitalist-ridden world."

"What do you make of these... 'Valkyrur,' comrade?"

"They are hailed as gods and liberators for actions thousands of years ago. What damage have they actually wrought upon these people, as to inspire such backwards worship of genetic errors? There is nothing special about them; our own forces are advanced enough to send these people to the grave."

"Yes, comrade Marshal." Moskvin snapped into a salute, and left Marchenko to his own thoughts.

"Perhaps, though, one such error might help..." Marchenko said to himself, before he began to hum an old tune to a patriotic song to which he'd forgot the words.

He turned to the Botamys, and to the green-uniformed men collecting its pieces. _Such a powerful machine... if used correctly, it could be devastating. The Empire holds no use for it right now, but the Union might,_ he thought to himself, as the men attempted to piece the machine together like a giant jigsaw puzzle.

"No... for the time being, comrades, we do not have the abilities to repair this thing. But we will. Soon enough, we will."

"Yes, comrade Marshal... but it couldn't hurt, could it? The more we put together here, the sooner we can use it ourselves," one of the men attempting to re-assemble the Botamys said.

Marchenko nodded understandingly. "Good point, Comrade Warrant-Officer. Do what you can, but we still have no place to hide such a massive vehicle."

The Warrant Officer nodded, and darted off, back to work as they began re-shaping a sheet of metal into the shape of the side of the tank's forward turret.

It was at this time that Marchenko remembered the song he was humming, and quietly began to sing the lyrics to himself.

"_The armor is hard and our tanks are fast_

_And our men are full of courage!_

_Soviet tankmen ready for action-_

_Sons of their great Motherland._"

He returned to humming the rest of _Marsh Sovetskikh Tankistov, _before noticing the young Captain Moskvin sulking. The Captain looked up from his etching in the sand, not surprisingly of a stick figure killing other stick figures with the unmistakable outline of the ADK-45.

"We should have killed them, Marchenko."

"Mind elaborating, comrade Captain?"

Nikolai looked up from his etching. "If we'd have killed them, they wouldn't have lived. They couldn't have told about us, and we could have kept our cover that much longer! For that matter, comrade Marshal, we shouldn't have interfered with them!"

Marchenko chuckled a bit.

"What is so funny?"

"There is something about that squad... something... different. I don't know what, but still..."

"Ok. So they had a few pretty women. I'll give them that. But we had no right interfering with them."

"No, Nikolai. You don't understand. Its like the trees back in Poland."

A surprised look on Moskvin's face quickly formed. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Nikolai. Those people are not normal. But I don't know how... yet, at least."

Moskvin still had no idea of what Marchenko meant. While the 'trees in Poland' helped him out, in that they'd have otherwise been ambushed by an experimental new Allied tank, named the Mirage tank, he couldn't see how Marchenko saw something strange about 'Squad 7'. They seemed to be just another group of soldiers that should be lying in a grave right now, preferably by his own hands.

"No, Sergei, I don't."

Marchenko sighed, walking towards a open space in the sand. He reached down,and pulled up on it, revealing a steel door beneath it. The Marshal descended down into the hole, and motioned for his captain and the rest of the men to follow him. For tonight, they were done.

---End Chapter 1---


	2. Captain Moskvin

Eleanor Varrot looked down on Welkin's report. Most of it seemed entirely nonsensical. While she started reading the report thinking it was just some unit from another country that had gone astray, when she read that the man leading the force identified himself as "Marshal of the Soviet Union," she dismissed it as utter garbage. Welkin appeared to be greatly distressed, as did Alicia; it was as though she'd said something completely untrue.

She understood why when a man dressed in a green uniform walked into the room, accompanying General Damon.

Was this man the 'Marshal of the Soviet Union' Welkin and Alicia spoke of? Varrot didn't contemplated it much; all the writing on the man's uniform was utter nonsense, at least to her, so that would be of no help.

She snapped into a salute. "Sir! Uh... Sirs?"

"Only me. Moskvin here's a Captain. At ease."

Varrot relaxed a bit, her hand falling back to her side.

"General, may I speak freely, to Captain Moskvin?"

"Why? If anything, I should to the talking to him. I don't think he cares about Militia rabble."

Moskvin spoke. "To contrary, General. Am very interested in 'Militia Rabble'."

"Why? What can they do that I can't?"

Moskvin rolled his eyes. "Kapitian... is 'Varrot' or 'Varault?' You have something on mind. Judging from your lower ranks, pretains to Marshal, yes?"

"Hey! I'm still here!"

Varrot tossed a bemused look at Damon. "Sir, if I may speak with the Captain alone, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Hrmph. Fine. Keep in mind that I do not grant maternity leave."

Damon left, slamming the door behind him. Moskvin scowled at the door.

"Insolent Asshole," he said with a tone of anger, before calming himself. "You have question?"

"Yes... one of our lieutenants described your forces to us, and your 'Marshal of the Soviet Union'..."

"Knew we should have killed them..." Moskvin's tone was still one of contempt.

"Killed who?"

"No-one; is not important. As you saying?"

"Your Leader. He's a 'Marshal of the Soviet Union', right?"

Moskvin nodded. "Second highest rank in all of Red Army; only Generalissimo is higher, and only one man held that rank."

"I see... what business do you have in Gallia, Captain?"

"We going to... uh... help you."

"Help us what?"

"...Help you drive Empire out."

Varrot nodded. "What do you expect in return. I doubt your Marshal..."

"Marchenko. Marshal of the USSR Sergei Marchenko."

"...well, I doubt Marchenko is helping us for free. Why are you helping us?"

Moskvin remained silent for a few seconds. "We do not know yet. All you need to know is that we are army without country..."

"...Mercenaries?"

"...If only were free. Consider us... special part of the Militia."

Varrot couldn't help but feel there was more to Moskvin than he let on. "I see. Well then, Captain Moskvin, I feel we may see a lot of each other in the future."

Moskvin let out a seemingly lighthearted smile. "I hope so. Captain, I have a Marshal to speak with, and must bid you goodbye, and _Dasvadanya_."

At that, the Soviet captain left. Directly outside Varrot's office, he shuddered.

"Augh. Stinks of Capitalism."

"You're mistaken. That's the Dark-hairs."

Moskvin turned to see a gray-haired man.

"Dark-hairs? What, they not take baths?"

Cezary chuckled grimly. "It's not that; they have this horrible, repulsive stench to them."

Moskvin whiffed the air, and suddenly sniffed Cezary. "Is strongest here."

"What are you doing?"

"Capitalism must be like Darcsens: both have unmistakable scent. Though, if scent is as bad as Capitalism's, do not know. Yet."

"Trust me. It's worse. Much worse."

"Is subjective." Moskvin walked away from the sniper. He spotted a Darcsen, and took a whiff of the air around him.

Wavy looked up at the Soviet captain. "Sorry, but... what are you doing?"

"You are Darcsen, yes?"

"Yes... why?"

"Man with gray hair said you guys had smell. Disagree... you smell just as dirty as I do." Moskvin sniffed Wavy again. "Less, actually."

"Um..." Before Wavy, or anyone else, could say anything to Moskvin, the Soviet had made his way off, out of the Barracks.

"...Thanks?"

--- ---

Moskvin stood waiting for his car. "Agh... hurry. Cannot stand smell much longer," he quietly said to himself.

"Wait... I know you..."

Moskvin turned to face a somewhat familiar female voice. She had brown hair, tied back into two pony tails, and a red headscarf. Her name escaped him, but he didn't get to attached to that sort of thing.

"Sorry miss, I know you?"

"Apparently not... but I know you... captain."

"That is my rank... I see, you are good listener."

Alicia smiled a bit, though Moskvin remained almost emotionless, sans impatience.

"Bread?"

Moskvin now noticed she had a basket in her hands. It contained the aforementioned baked product.

"No... am tired of bread... is all Red Army ever eats."

"Oh... well, mine's different."

The look on the Soviet's face said he thought otherwise. Alicia countered with a face comparable to a puppy dog; even the battle hardened, somewhat sadistic Moskvin had a hard time resisting her when she put her mind to it. The captain grabbed a small piece from the basket, and bit into it.

Alicia watched him eagerly, a shy smile forming on her lips, which suddenly disappeared when Moskvin's face didn't change one way or the other, as the officer took a second bite from the slice.

"Well?"

"'Well'... what?"

Alicia's face was one of curiosity. Moskvin realized that she wanted his opinion on the bread.

"It's bread."

"Is that good?"

"It's bread." Moskvin shrugged, taking a third bite.

Alicia turned away from Moskvin. "I see..." She had a far-off tone to her voice.

Moskvin had an odd feeling that he'd insulted her. But he'd spoke his mind. It was bread, and he was sick and tired of just bread. Sure, it was fresh, compared to the mostly stale bread served by the Red Army mess tents, but it was bread none the less. But, it did have a familiar taste to it...

She walked away, leaving the officer to his own thoughts. He coughed, then did so again. Alicia turned to make sure Moskvin was alright, as he kept coughing, realizing what the familiar taste was...

Garlic. Moskvin and garlic didn't go together. He didn't like it, and it didn't like him. It didn't like him much more than he could ever not like it.

Alicia rushed over to the officer, who was now reacting somewhat violently to the consumed spice. "Oh my... I'm sorry... I'm so..."

"_You bitch!_" Moskvin nearly throttled Alicia by the neck when she came close to help him. "I let you live, and you repay me with this treachery!"

"I had no...!"

"What's going on?"

Alicia stood back up, attempting to pull Moskvin up, despite the Soviet grabbing her by the hair and pulling fiercely, all the while shouting that she'd attempted to poison him.

"Stop this!" Welkin said, pulling Moskvin off Alicia (or, was it Alicia off Moskvin?), with a face not dissimilar to the one he normally wore when ordering the squad into combat. "Alicia, what happened?"

"That... whore, tried to poison me!" Moskvin shouted

"I had no idea!" Alicia rebutted.

"Enough! Both of you!"

Moskvin, his allergy attack seemingly passing, stood back up straight. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" He pointed to Alicia. "I want her detained!" He turned his attention back to Welkin. "You... you just stay out of my way! I don't have the time or patience to deal with you capitalist scum."

The Soviet walked off; Welkin could only watch as a pair of Red Army troops lead Alicia off. That also marked the first time he'd heard an economic system used as an insult.

"Wait! Captain, wait!"

Moskvin's car had driven up; it was a modified civilian car. "What, you filthy dog?"

"If you're taking Alicia, you're taking me, too!"

The smile that stretched across Moskvin's face made Welkin regret his fairly gutsy words. "Alright... Detain him, too."

Before Welkin could even note the speed of which the Soviet soldiers packed him into the vehicle alongside Alicia, he was in.

"Captain, you can't just detain anyone you want just because they put garlic in your food! Alicia didn't know!"

"Blahblahblah CAPITALIST LIES!" Moskvin suddenly shouted, causing both Alicia and Welkin to jump. "She knew! She knew I was allergic and now she shall PAY!"

"I didn't know!"

"YOU DID! DON'T TRY TO LIE TO ME BECAUSE I KNOW! YOU DID! YOU DIIIID!"

The Soldier pointing his ADK-45 at them spoke quietly, to Welkin and Alicia. "This happens... _a lot_. He has a tendency to devolve into fits of shouting, and mood swings. My best bet is to hope it passes before he does something irreparable."

Alicia gulped, as did Welkin.

"I-Irreparable?" Alicia asked. "Like what?"

"Well, he actually _killed _someone for bumping into him on the sidewalk. Your chances look slim," he pointed to Alicia, "you in particular."

Alicia felt her face heat up, as a bead of sweat rolled down her face. "M-me?"

"Yes... unfortunately for you, Moskvin tends to...'break' the women. You happen to be his type. Men, he just kills outright."

The car stopped. Alicia just about had a nervous breakdown when Marshal Marchenko opened the door.

"Apologies for Moskvin's actions. Tends to... overreact," the Marshal said in a calm, collected voice, conflicting with the near insane state of Captain Moskvin.

"She tried to kill me!" Moskvin directed a finger at Alicia. "I will have her head! After, of course, my head..."

Marchenko tossed a threatening look at Moskvin, who fell silent instantly.

"Nikolai, no-one is going to kill you. It was an honest mistake. She didn't know about your allergy."

"She did! She _did!_ She _diiiid!_" Moskvin's voice now resembled a crying child. Marchenko patted the man on the head, handed him something, and turned back to the two Gallians now staring at him.

"Marshal Sergei Marchenko, Red Army. Or rather, Gallian Militia, correct?"

Alicia and Welkin only tossed confused looks at each other, and at Moskvin, who was now sucking on a peppermint stick, curled up in a ball next to the car's tire.

Marchenko sighed. "It's the only way to bring him down from a fit like that."

"How'd he get to be captain?" Welkin asked, pointing to Moskvin.

"Locked inside that strange, confused man's head is a brilliant tactical mind. When you get him leading a force of men, it translates into an excellent battle plan. Unfortunately, Nikolai lacks much in the way of social skills or mental stability, as he demonstrated."

"That thing, that the soldier said, about him doing... 'things' to women," Alicia began, now having a healthy fear of the brown-haired captain, "is that true?"

Marchenko sighed. "I prefer not to answer; you may have been damaged enough as it is. The truth is too harsh, even for an experienced fighter such as yourself."

"Sir, will we be able to go back to the base?" Welkin asked. "Not to sound insulting or anything..."

Marchenko set his hand on Welkin's shoulder. "I'm surprised you even asked." He delivered a few good pats onto Welkin's arm, then said something in Russian, as a fast-moving little car rolled up. "It's not a Mercedes-Benz, but it will do."

"Mercedes-Benz?"

"Never mind. Go home, you've had more excitement than any day of combat could give you."

At that, the two of them got into the back of the small car, and were driven back to their own base.

Marchenko turned to Moskvin, and sighed. The younger looked up, an innocent look on his face.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Marshal!"

"You need to stop having these fits, Nikolai. I won't be there to hand you a peppermint stick forever."

Moskvin failed to respond.

"Oh, in the name of Lenin... I'm too old for this, Moskvin."

Marchenko took the captain up in his arms as best he could, and carried him to the barracks.

---End Chapter 2---


	3. The Less You Know

From within his room, he watched them. The green drab of the new troops clashed with the blue-on-red worn by those already in the Militia. The high-leg march, and the blank expression on the faces of the troops made the tight formation of men, their rifles with bayonets fixed, look unnatural, despite the coloration of the troops easily blending with most of Gallia's topography.

Welkin thought about this. It was a look he'd seen nowhere in nature before. The almost otherworldly shape of some of the men actually lead him to wonder if, indeed, they were not some sort of machine, rather than any sort of organic being.

Their loyalty to 'Communism' caused a great deal of concern for the lieutenant. Many of his men and women had suddenly 'disappeared' into thin air, Rosie amongst them. While she was a Darcsen hater, he didn't think that her beliefs would lead her to abandon her post. The same with many other people who'd vanished after the 'greens' secured a position in both the Army and Militia.

He was shook from his thoughts by a knock on his door. "Come in. It's open."

The sound of footsteps, followed by her familiar voice.

"Something's bothering you."

Welkin turned to face Alicia. She was right; the Soviet troops did, indeed, bother him.

"And it's probably the same something bothering me."

They both turned to face the marching Soviet troops. The sound of footsteps had been replaced with the roar of engines, no doubt the KV-110-2's that had been issued to the Third Regiment's detachment of Red Army troops.

"How do you know?" Welkin's tone indicated that she was right.

Alicia shrugged. "Lucky guess," she responded, turning away from the marching Soviets.

"Your 'lucky guesses'..."

"Lieutenant Gunther? Is bad time?"

Welkin stopped mid sentence, as he and Alicia turned to face a trio of men in the green uniforms of the Red Army troops.

"Am sorry... door was open..."

"No, it's fine."

Alicia began to walk away, apparently not liking the presence of the Reds. "I'll be going."

"Alicia, where are you...?"

The dismayed look on her face indicated she didn't want to be around the Russians. "I... uh... left something in the oven."

Unconvinced, Welkin let her go. It wasn't like he could really control her, even if he was higher up the chain of command than her. She just, if the way she acted around the Soviets was right, didn't fell comfortable around them.

Welkin was right; by no means, was she comfortable around the Soviet troops. It wasn't that she thought they were bad, but rather, that they were hiding something. Alicia still couldn't tell if she could actually trust these men. They had no little sister who could explain things, unlike Welkin, and since they seemingly materialized from nothing, she didn't even know where they were really from, since the 'Soviet Union' was a term completely foreign to her.

"Is nice day. Girl like you shouldn't be inside."

She nearly leaped from her skin at the voice.

"Ah... Marshal!" She quickly snapped into a salute.

Marchenko merely saluted back, allowing her to let her hand fall to her side. The look on his face indicated he was by no means unaware of her suspicions of the Soviet forces that had appeared. She struck him as the type who wouldn't let something slip by, particularly if that something happened to be a large enough military force to crush her own nation many times over.

"The less you know, Sargent Melchiott, the better off you'll be."

Alicia's face turned to one of worry; was he saying that she knew to much? Would she 'disappear' to the same place that the others had gone? She could feel the sweat building up, when Marchenko patted her on the head like one would a dog.

"Just thought I'd tell you that." His tone said he'd be watching her.

She couldn't help but shudder a bit at the implied consequences. Whatever fate had befallen Rosie, and various other people, wasn't one she felt like finding out what it was.

At the same time, this only fueled her curiosity. Where exactly _did_ the Soviets come from? Why would they want to keep it a secret so badly?

Marchenko had walked away, though Alicia could still see him in the distance. One part of her wanted to stay away from the Marshal; the other wanted to find out more.

_The less you know, Sargent Melchiott, the better off you'll be._

She could hear the Marshal's voice ringing clearly through her head. Shaking him from her thoughts, she watched Marchenko disappear into a door in which no Gallian had ever entered.

She silently attempted to sneak over to the door as best she could. It was still fairly light out, though the sun was starting to set. She pushed on the door, as it opened silently.

She looked about the hallway. Near the other end, near a door, she could see Marchenko entering a room full of strange screens.

On the other side of the door, Marchenko looked at the surveillance screen, seeing Alicia, unaware of the video camera looking right at her. A smug smile stretched across his face.

"I warned her," he said to one of his NKVD guardsmen.

Men in black uniforms soon stood between Alicia and the doors into the command room, and out to the base.

She didn't know herself to be claustrophobic; but the fact that the men were closing in on her had malicious intent for her probably helped bring it on.

"Um... Hi. Nice weather we're having... right?" Her voice was very unsure.

"What are you doing in here, Sargent?"

"Uh... just... taking a walk. Got curi... erm, lost. That's all."

The NKVD operative's face was completely neutral as he ordered his subordinates to seize her. An easy task. As Alicia attempted to back out of the ring they'd formed, she was grabbed by the arms and suddenly had her right hand twisted behind her back. She attempted to call out for help, but a gag was stuffed in her mouth before sound came out.

She felt something prick her skin, and she began to suddenly feel very sleepy. Before closing her eyes, she saw the figure of Marchenko standing just outside the ring of black-uniformed men.

"I warned you, Sargent Melchiott. You will pay for not listening."

--- ---

Welkin was still looking for Alicia. After all, how hard could it be to find her? She always had her headscarf on, and her hair up in twintails. It didn't seem like that hard of a task.

He did, however find Largo. Perhaps he'd know where she was.

"Hey boss? You have a troubled look on your face... something up?" Largo asked.

"It's Alicia... or rather, a _lack_ of Alicia. I can't find her anywhere, and I've been looking for a few days now."

"Hmm... not like her to just run off like that. Think she went AWOL?"

"No... that's absurd. She knows just as well as the rest of us, we need her. She'd never just run off... I think..."

Isara suddenly ran into the room. She was out of breath.

"Welks! I-I found... Alicia!"

"Really? W-Where?"

"T-The Soviets...!"

There was shouting in Russian. Isara ran between Welkin and Largo.

"I'm sorry! I'm... They're after me!"

Welkin and Largo looked the direction Isara had come from. Two men in black versions of the Soviet uniform rushed in.

"Where is she?! Where is Corporal Gunther?"

Welkin thought for a second, looking at the Makarov PM's in the hands of the two Soviets. "S-She's not here! Down the hall! She ran that way!" Welkin pointed to the men's right.

The seeming leader said something in Russian. They barged into the room, and began searching.

"I just told you; she's not here!"

"Boss, I don't think they understand you."

One of the NKVD operatives rounded a corner. The upper half of his head was promptly taken off when the sound of a Gallian firing echoed.

The next operative rounded the corner, Makarov PM drawn. Isara again pulled the trigger; the 7.92mm round exploded into the man's head.

The young Darcsen looked at the two dead Soviets.

"We have to get out of here! I know where they're holding Alicia!"

Welkin began running after Isara, pulling out his own service pistol. "Wait... They're holding Alicia?"

"Yes... and they've done terrible things to her!"

Welkin suddenly became incredibly angry with the Soviets. "Whatever you've done to her, Marchenko... you will regret it!" He grabbed one of the Makarovs of the dead operatives, and some spare clips for it.

"Boss, that's going to be unwieldy..." Largo began, though the angered look on Welkin's face was instant indication that he didn't feel like expending time on talking about his choice of weaponry at the moment. "You know what? Let's just go save the Sargent, alright?"

Welkin offered no verbal response, but nodded. "Ok, Is. Where is she?"

"She's in the building the Soviets took over... I also found Rosie, but we'll need help to get into the building. Neither of them can fight, and every Soviet I saw had one of those strange automatic rifles."

Welkin didn't lose any degree of hope, but instead ran for the armory, motioning for Isara and Largo to follow him. When they arrived, Welkin came to a pair of retrieved Imperial rifles, ZM Kar 2's.

"Why we using those things?" Largo asked. "They haven't even Gallianized them."

"That's the idea. If we use these unmodified ones, we should be able to use Soviet magazines. They both use the same round, as far as I know."

Isara thought for a second, then rushed over to another rack, sealed behind glass. She shattered the glass with the Gallian-2's butt, and grabbed one of the rifles. It was a modified T-Mags, which used the 7.62 round the ADK and ZM Kar used, rather than the normal 9mm round.

"Here, Largo." She passed the gun to the veteran.

"B-But... Agh. Boss, we're basically attacking friendlies, you know that?"

"I know," Welkin said, "but they discarded that right when I found out they took Alicia."

Largo sighed. "Alright. Just to keep you guys from getting eaten alive, I'll come too."

Welkin loaded and cocked the Kar 2, while Isara ditched the Gallian 2 for her own Imp rifle.

"Excuse me, Boss, but we don't have a plan. Hell, we don't even have a damn _map_ of the place."

Welkin started to come down from his anger-high. "Hm... you're right... Isara, do you remember what the inside looked like?"

She shook her head. "No... I'm sorry, Welks. It was too dark for me to really see anything... I only knew it was Alicia because I looked at one of the screens... I'm sorry..."

Welkin patted her. "It's ok, Is. We'll just have to try a bit harder than I hoped, that's all." Mentally, though, he couldn't help but feel a bit upset at her. But he was good at hiding it.

"So, what do we do, Boss? I've only seen that one door... besides that big warehouse door on the other side that the Reds use to put those giant tanks in, but that's it."

Welkin sat atop a crate of explosives, then looked down.

"You know... I think I might know of a Shocktrooper who could help us out."

---End Chapter 3---

**To clear up any confusion: My previous, fairly positive depiction of the Soviets (Sans Moskvin) is actually based somewhat on (un)reality; it comes from the mission in RA3 where the Soviets convince the Allies to send their ambassador and end up killing him; it's also the Mission were Cherdenko (who this rendition of Marchenko draws off of slightly) attempts to kill the player (and ends up getting killed).**

**I hope this clears things up. Leave a well-appreciated review, and questions.**


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